


If I Keep My Eyes Closed.

by psyleedee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Bittersweet Ending, Car Accidents, Castiel/Dean Winchester Anniversary, Coping, Crying, Depressed Castiel (Supernatural), Emotionally Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Flashbacks, Heavy Angst, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), I'm Sorry, M/M, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, Memories, Sad Ending, Tragic Romance, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23776663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psyleedee/pseuds/psyleedee
Summary: 'We interrupt this broadcast of LawrenceNow on TV to bring you breaking news of a supposed multiple-fatality car accident just outside of town. Reports conclude the crash involved a trailer and a classic 1967 Chevy Impala, on Country highway no. 37. The paramedics are on their way as we speak, and experts are looking into the crash. No information has been revealed about the number of passengers injured or the identities of said passengers. More after the break.'
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 30
Kudos: 80





	If I Keep My Eyes Closed.

**Author's Note:**

> READ TAGS.  
> Also, this was inspired by a song that the wonderful @xHaruka17x gave me on our tumblr group chat.  
> Although the original song 'Eyes Closed' is about an unforgettable past relationship, I decided to put my own SAD twist on it. Thanks for reading and again, I'm so sorry! I'll try to post more happy stuff to keep y'all entertained in quarantine.

_We interrupt this broadcast of LawrenceNow on TV to bring you breaking news of a multiple-fatality car accident just outside of town. Reports conclude the crash involved a trailer and a classic 1967 Chevy Impala, on Country highway no. 37. The paramedics are on their way as we speak, and experts are looking into the crash. No information has been revealed about the number of passengers injured or the identities of said passengers. More after the break._

The oven timer beeps, once, twice, thrice, pulling Castiel out of his daze. A short jog towards the kitchen later, he grabs a pair of mitts, and ducks down to retrieve the pie from the heated oven, eyes fixed onto the tin, as he sets it up on the cool marble counter, hands delicate and focused.

The warm scent of apple and cinnamon wafts through the air, along with the soft aroma of freshly baked pie crust. Castiel smiles, leaning down to breathe in a lung full of the sweet scent.

_"I hope you haven't burned the house down."_   
_Dean sighed as he wrapped his arms around Cas's waist, chin set snug in the crook of his neck, as he gazed down at the mess on the counter._

_"Shut up, it looks delicious."_

_"Still can't believe you're in the kitchen, babe, cooking and all? You really love me, don't you?"_   
_His laughter echoed through the room, and pulled a smile at Cas's lips, as he dropped a soft kiss on Castiel's shoulder._

_"Oh, were you doubting my love?"_

_"Well, not after looking at that pie, no."_

_Castiel rolled his eyes at Dean's words, heaving an exaggerated sigh, as Dean pulled away, taking the smell of leather and petrol, and his warmth away with him._

_"So, you love me no matter what?"_

_"Is that even a question, Cas?"_

_"Good, because I don't remember if I added salt to it or sugar."_   
_Dean's mouth dropped open, eyes wide in disbelief, as he reached for a cherry on the counter, looking up at Castiel with the most incredulous look possible, until Cas smiled._

_"Maybe I did use sugar."_

_Cas had never seen Dean sigh louder in relief._

The pie remains untouched on the counter, as Castiel stares out the window. It's been years now. Almost three. It shouldn't hurt as much as it does.

Where there should be scars on Castiel's skin, there's fresh gashes, leaking blood every second. Problem is, he knows it isn't his.

The clock ticks by, slower than Castiel's ever heard it, and a glance towards it tells him it's around eight in the evening.

There is still time left.

In the distance, the ringing of his cellphone calls to him, and within a second, Castiel blinks back to the present, pulling the mitts off his hands as he heads for the coffee table in the living room, where he's sure he kept his phone a while ago.

The screen lights up, flashing an all too familiar name, and Castiel swipes right.

"Gabriel."  
He says, as he settles down onto the couch, eyes fixing onto some mundane part on the floor.

"Hey kiddo."

"Hey."

Silence.

"Did you visit him today?"

"Not yet. In some time."

Gabriel sighs on the other end. And then he gulps.

"How're you holdin' up?"

"I'm... Okay."

_It's a lie._

"I know it's... It's hard for you today."

"It's hard for me everyday, Gabe."

Silence.

Gabriel heaves a loud sigh at the other end.

"Happy anniversary, Cas."

A tear rolls down Castiel's cheek. And another, and another. His lips quiver, and his hand shakes, threatening to drop the cell phone, as a sob wracks his body.

"Hey, it's alright, hey, Cas, please, it's alright, it's alright, I'm right here-"

With a dismissive wave of his hand, Castiel shakes his head, blinking through the tears, when his eyes fall upon a picture above the fireplace. A picture from the wedding.

" _Dean, you're not supposed to see me before the wedding. It's bad luck."_

_Castiel said, but couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips. Warm hands slipped around him as Dean pulled him into a crushing hug, lips pressing against Castiel's with uncontrolled desperation._

_"You're my lucky charm, angel, don't think anything could hurt me when you're here.'_

Castiel sighs.

"Gabe, uh, I think, uh, I think my food's burning, I'll uh, I'll call you later."

His fingers brush against the screen, and before he knows it, the line goes flat, nothing but a beep to signal he's ended the call. The cellphone slips through his fingers, bouncing off the couch and onto the carpet, as Castiel falls back, heaving a sigh, breathing deep, in and out, in and out, and for a moment, he's silent.

He can think of nothing.

And the next moment, he's screaming.

A loud, broken scream.

Choked by the sobs that jerk Castiel's body.

His body shrivels, knees pull up as he huddles his head into them, lips twitching as he spills tear after tear.

Green eyes smile at him.

There's laughter somewhere in the distance, somewhere in his mind.

_Dean._

He knows he's not supposed to be doing this. He knows it's going to hurt him.

But he can't help it.

His hand reaches for his cellphone, lying idle on the floor. He doesn't need to think about it, before he knows it, he's in the list of voicemails, and although his fingers hover over one specific voicemail for a moment, they press down with conviction, and all at once, there's a voice, Dean's voice, and it's flooding through his ears.  
  
 _'Hey baby, I know you're busy, I just wanted to tell you, be ready by eight, I booked us in at the French place you were taking about, and no, I'm not saying the name cause I know you're going to give me shit for my pronunciation, but I know you're going to love it. Happy anniversary, sweetheart. I love y- fuck!'_

A thunderous crash fills Castiel's ears, but he's at a point where it doesn't surprise him at all, instead, he anticipates it. Every time he plays the mail, part of him knows the crash will follow.

If only he had listened to it sooner.

But now? There's nothing left to do but regret.

So, he plays it again.

 _'Hey baby, I know you're busy, I just wanted to tell you, be ready by eight, I booked us in at the French place you were taking about, and no, I'm not saying the name cause I know you're going to give me shit for my pronunciation, but I know you're going to love it. Happy anniversary, sweetheart. I love y- fuck_!'

The crash follows. It always does.

Yet, he plays it again.

_'Hey baby, I know you're busy, I just wanted to tell you, be ready by eight, I booked us in at the French place you were taking about, and no, I'm not saying the name cause I know you're going to give me shit for my pronunciation, but I know you're going to love it. Happy anniversary, sweetheart. I love y- fuck!'_

His face is wet enough, that he doesn't even realize the fresh stream of tears that roll down his cheeks.

The crash fills his ears.

_'Mr. Novak-Winchester?'_

_'Yes?'_

_'I'm calling from the Kansas City Police Department, uh... We need you to come down to the station to identify a body.'_

_'What?'_

_'Uhm... Please just come as soon as possible.'_

Castiel opens his eyes, maybe the fact that he's awake will help push the memory away, and yet, the words spiral endlessly through his head.

_'You've been married to the victim for how long?'_

_'It was supposed to be two years. T_ _oday.'_

_'Oh. Oh, sir, uh, my apologies.'_

_'What are you apologizing for? It's not like you could have done anything.'_

_'For uh... Sir, can I get you some water?'_

_'Just get me home.'_

A new wave of sobs wrack his body, as he drops his head back into the cushion of the couch, face held in his palms, an obnoxious wail escaping past his lips.

Why _him_? Why them?

He doesn't care how selfish it sounds.

But it shouldn't have been Dean. It should have been the other driver, the one who'd filled up his liver to the brim with beer, he's the one who should have been dead.

He's the one whose life should have been ruined. And with his, the life of everyone who ever loved him.

It shouldn't have been Dean.

It shouldn't have been-

His cellphone rings again, and despite having not a single ounce of energy left within him, Castiel reaches for it, not bothering to look at the caller, as he swipes right mindlessly and holds it against his ear.

"Cas?"

Mary's voice, soft, a bit pained, rings through the speaker.

"Mom."

"I know I called you once already, but baby, I just couldn't help myself. You and Sam, you're all I have.

Castiel sucks in a deep breath.

"I know."

"How are you feeling?"

It's strange. Castiel can't answer that. So, he does what he always does. Lies.

"I'm okay, mom."

"Don't lie to me."

Silence.

"What do you want me to say? I can barely get myself to speak, how do you expect me to tell you how I feel?"

Silence.

"Have you visited him?"

"Not yet. Did you?"

"In the morning. I thought you'd done it already."  
Mary says, and Castiel gulps, eyes shut as he takes a deep breath.

"I couldn't get myself to. Not today."

"Oh baby... Do you want me to come over?"

"No. It's fine."

Castiel's eyes are glassy, they shouldn't be, and though he tries his best to refrain any and all tears, he can't help the way they brim at his eyes. He feels his lips quiver, as if on their own accord, and in the back of his mind, he's well aware of what's to come.

"Just... Try to think of the happy things, baby. You know he's not gone. He's here. He's with us. And I know he's- he's looking- looking down at us."

Mary's crying.

Castiel won't.

"I miss him."  
He says, for lack of better words, but the truth is, these three words can't even pale in comparison, in the slightest, to how miserable he feels.

They say hope is what makes us human.

But what are we when we lose that hope?

Castiel likes to think we become mere vessels. We breathe. We eat. We talk. On the outside, we are what we've always been. But on the inside? We're hollow. There's nothing that makes us human, then, except for our skin and voice.

Who'd know better than him?

"Sweetheart, we all do."

 _But did you all know him the way I did?_ It's on the tip of his tongue, but he refrains from saying it. Mary's just trying to help. Even if it's not working.

A mindless glance at the clock tells him it's almost nine, damn it, he's been here for an hour, and if he had nothing else to do, he'd be here for one more. But right now? He has a place to be.

A person to visit.

"Mom, uh, can I call you later? I'm going to go now, going to check on him."

Mary's voice falters.

"Oh, of course. Call me when you get home, okay?"

"Sure. Love you, mom, bye."

"Bye."

The line goes flat, save for a beep, and Castiel pushes himself off the couch. Shit, his pie has been sitting out for too long, he should go check on it.

Thankfully, it's cooled down, and Castiel grabs a container, a big, round one, and transfers the pie into it. It's already nine.

Closing hours are nine thirty.

He grabs the container, car keys, cell phone, and house keys, and dashes out the door.

It doesn't take him much time to get in, start the engine, and get on the road. The familiar streets of Lawrence greet him, so empty and cold at this hour of the night.

The street lamps shed their light on the bonnet of Castiel's Lincoln Continental, a car Dean had termed as _pimpmobile_ the minute he'd seen it. Ever since, it had stuck, to the point that Castiel would refer to it as the pimpmobile himself.

Dean, Dean, Dean. Dean and his jokes. Dean and his stupid nicknames. Dean and his promises. 

_"Ever since I've met you, Cas, I haven't had a single bad day in my life. Because no matter how shitty work goes, and no matter what tries to ruin my day, I see you, with me, alive and laughing, and I can't think of a single reason why it's not the best thing in the universe. I promise Cas, to keep you happy, healthy and loved, through thick and thin, and to laugh at you when you do something stupid, like the time you thought it was a good idea to wear a tank top on a ski trip, and I promise to never watch a single episode of Dr. Sexy without you, and to make you watch Tombstone and Batman on repeat with me, and to keep you smiling every second I can. You're the biggest win in my life, Cas, and the fact that I'm marrying you, makes me the luckiest son of a bitch in the whole wide world."_

_Dean smiled, as he squeezed Castiel's hands within his own. Beside them, pastor Jim smiled, and began speaking, but for a few seconds, Castiel couldn't take his eyes off Dean._

It's funny how one day, you're invincible. As if the world can't touch you or your little bubble of joy.

And the next day? You're in ruins.

Suddenly, there's nothing worth living for.

The drive isn't long, and within fifteen minutes of moderate driving, he is pulling up at the gate of a place that's become a second home to him.

 _Lawrence City Cemetery_.

He parks a few spaces down, having only a short walk up to the gate, as he balances the container in his hands.

Right as he's entering, a voice calls to him.

"It's closing hours, Mr. Winchester."

Castiel turns, only to meet with Aidan, the security guard's tired, young face.

_"Happy first anniversary, baby!"_   
_A loud pop startled Castiel, and before he knew it, he was covered in paper confetti, a beaming Dean standing in front of him with a party-popper in his hands._

_"Happy anniversary, Dean."_

_"Can you believe it, Cas? We've been married an entire freaking year?"_   
_Dean surged forward, pulling Castiel into his arms, as he crushed him in a tight hug._

_"An year, indeed."_

_"And you're not sick of me yet, so I'm going to count that as a success."_   
_Dean said._

_"I could never be sick of you."_

_Castiel chuckled, hands reaching up to cup around Dean's face, as he pulled his husband into a soft, lingering kiss_.

"It's my anniversary, Aidan."  
Castiel's lips quiver, and it must be the tear that rolls down his eye, because Aidan is sighing and holding his hands up in defeat.

"Can't fight with that. You have an hour, okay?"

"That's more than I'll need."

Castiel smiles, and tries to to dismiss the pity he sees in Aidan's eyes, as he turns, and enters the cemetery.

There's something about the place, not eerie or chilling, yet a warmth lingers there. A certain stillness. As if everything is at peace.

With a sigh, Castiel sets down the pie on the grass in front of a certain grave.

_Dean Winchester._

_1979-2020_.

 _Dutiful son, proud brother, loving husband, kind soul_.

Castiel kneels down in the grass, shuts his eyes, touches his fingers to his lips, and then to the cold surface of the stone.

A single tear rolls down his face.

 _'You're the biggest win in my life, Cas_.'

His eyes flutter open, as if the the breeze has kissed his eyelids, and with a soft, broken sob, he smiles.

"Hello Dean."

**Author's Note:**

> yes you can thrash me :')


End file.
